


Ducks and Deer

by SpicedGold



Series: The Nara Family [2]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: All her boys are crazy, F/M, Family Fluff nonsense, Kids, Men are very immature, Temari has had enough, We are a herd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 13:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16305770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: Even Shikamaru must succumb to his childish whims once in a while.





	Ducks and Deer

Temari overheard it from Tsunade, of all people, who explained to Sakura in a voice coloured with alcohol, “Men never actually mature. They just learn how to behave in public.”

And Temari didn’t believe it, because while Shikamaru does have an inexcusable, at times adorable, childish side he is, without a doubt, very mature.

She might even claim him to be the most mature man in her life, if only because Kankuro is a lost cause, Gaara is emotionally stunted, and Shikadai is two years old.

She mused to herself, watching him and Shikadai page through a book together, that he is actually very mature, and always has been, so Tsunade must be wrong. There’s a dignified sense of wisdom to him, something that sets him apart from the other men she is close to.

Unlike Kankuro, her husband doesn’t forget to turn the stove off, or, by extension, that leaning on it burns. One time is an excusable accident, Kankuro, but times two and three . . .

Unlike Sai, her husband doesn’t get frustrated by his son’s constant questions – and they are frequent and fast, since Shikadai grasped the skill of talking he seemed determined to use it to exhaustion.

Unlike Naruto, her husband doesn’t seem baffled at the concept of fatherhood and what is expected from him. Shikamaru is home when needed, and works when needed, and is generally just exactly what is needed.

Unlike Gaara, her husband doesn’t send her pained expressions when Shikadai is crying, as though the child is a mysterious demon that cannot be comprehended. Shikamaru can soothe him most of the time, and is never flustered.

No, Shikamaru takes everything in stride. He handles everything, he predicts everything, and it makes for a relatively peaceful life (From him, anyway. Temari is another story). His moments of childishness are carefully controlled, and displayed only in front of her and Shikadai – be it giggling helplessly over something Naruto did, or sighing dramatically when told to get his lazy ass out of bed, or his stubborn insistence that it’s cold outside and he is staying right where he is, and if she doesn’t like cuddling she can move over, because Shikadai will happily take her place.

And so Temari had settled into the assumption that Tsunade was wrong, and some men were perfectly mature and not given to odd whimsical flights of fancy.

Until the duck.

Shikamaru had promised Shikadai a new toy if he finished all his supper (Temari had nearly blown a gasket finding out, because you didn’t _bribe_ children, you _told_ them what to do and they listened or got punished, simple as that) and Shikadai decided he wanted a duck to cuddle.

For whatever reason, Shikadai had selected the duck as his favourite animal.

Temari wasn’t sure if it was because he liked the sound they made, or because they just sat around doing nothing all day, floating serenely on the rivers, or because he liked the way she snapped her head up and glared every time he wandered past muttering the word under his breath.

Bribery and an argument on parenting later, she was standing at Shikamaru’s side in the toy store, waiting impatiently for him to pick up the stupid fluffy white duck so they could be on their way. She had things to do, and he was being unusually indecisive.

“They all look the same,” she snapped eventually. “Just pick one.”

“I have,” he replied. “I’m not thinking about the duck.”

“Then why,” she asked, exasperated, “Are we still standing here?”

“There’s only one left.” He sounded a tad plaintive.

“There’s about a dozen ducks, what are you going on about?”

“The deer,” he said. “It’s the only one left.”

“So?” Sure enough, amongst the endless rows of ducks and teddy bears and frogs, there was one lone stuffed deer sitting on the shelves.

“It’ll get lonely.” Shikamaru looked at her, dark eyes worried. “Deer live in herds.”

“Are you . . . serious? It’s a stuffed toy.”

He twitched a bit under her intense gaze. “We can’t just leave it by itself.”

She closed her eyes briefly, gathering her patience. “Shikamaru. You are a grown man. Stop being ridiculous. Just get the duck, and let’s go.”

 

Contrary to popular belief, Shikadai got his pleading puppy dog eyes from his father.

And there was a stuffed deer sitting on their bed when Temari entered their bedroom.

“Did you . . .?”

“He was lonely, Temari,” Shikamaru defended, big eyes in play.

She placed a hand over her eyes, mentally counting to ten. It was true. Tsunade was right. All men were just giant babies masquerading as adults.

“He’s friendly,” Shikamaru added, as though he needed to sell the concept to her.

“He’s an inanimate object, Shikamaru.”

“He _is_ friendly, though,” Shikadai came toddling up behind her, white duck held possessively against his chest. “So you can’t make him leave.” He planted himself at the foot of the bed, staring her down, his back to the deer.

Temari looked at her two boys – one, holding a duck, with a look of stubborn defiance, and one with his arms crossed and a hopeless, pleading pout in place (both of them childish, immature idiots) – and she sighed. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

Shikamaru lit up, and she wanted to smack her face (Or his) into the wall.

Satisfied, Shikadai nodded once, and left the room, having defended his father’s new friend successfully.

 

“Aw, but he’s cute,” Ino cooed, as Shikadai presented the deer proudly, holding it up above his head, his duck between his ankles.

“It’s ridiculous,” Temari said snippily. “We have a million real deer right outside the door, why do we need fake ones on our bed as well?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Ino said, lifting Shikadai onto her lap to better inspect his new friend. The deer was russet brown with tiny little antlers and big black eyes. “What’s wrong with men being able to identify with their kids? Everyone needs to hold onto a little bit of their innocence. It’s not a bad thing.”

She stroked the deer, and Shikadai grinned up at her, pleased at her affection. “Sai likes to pick flowers.”

“All men are insane,” Temari muttered.

“Sasuke collects little cat ornaments that he thinks I don’t know about,” Sakura added helpfully. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“Toys are for children,” Temari said firmly.

“Oh, don’t be so staid,” Ino rolled her eyes. “You should be happy. Shikamaru’s a sweetheart. If he’s this attached to a fluffy deer, imagine how he must feel about you and Shikadai.”

“We’re a herd,” Shikadai added, shaking the deer a bit to make it’s head nod. He left Ino’s lap to pick up his duck, and ran from the room making loud quacking noises.

“He just likes the deer because he’s a man, and feels the need to project his feelings of protective masculinity onto something, and you always reject them,” Sakura said, in a voice that managed to sound both reasonable and accusing.

“Are you suggesting he needs a fluffy toy deer to cuddle because he’s oh so manly?” Temari raised an eyebrow.

“Temari, leave him alone,” Ino sighed. “It doesn’t matter why. Just let him be.”

Shikadai came barrelling past, still quacking loudly.

“At least deer don’t make a noise,” Sakura said under her breath, almost drowned out by Shikadai’s squawking.

“Shikadai,” Temari snapped, “Shut the duck up.”

 

“Do you have to glare at him like that?” Shikamaru asked with a sigh, as Temari stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, eyes on the deer. It sat on Shikamaru’s pillow, where he usually left it during the day, unless Shikadai kidnapped it.

“It could stay in Shikadai’s room. With his other toys.”

“But he’s mine,” Shikamaru looked horrified. He snatched the deer up possessively. “He doesn’t belong in Shikadai’s room.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes,” Shikamaru studied the deer. “I had a deer like him when I was young. It’s just nice to have another one. Brings back good memories.”

Temari rolled her eyes. “It can bring back good memories from Shikadai’s room.”

“Just hold him,” Shikamaru insisted, thrusting the deer towards her.

She took it from him with a sigh. “Okay?”

“No, _properly_. Or you’ll hurt him.”

The urge to rip its head off was growing with every second. “ _Why_?”

“Didn’t you ever have toys growing up? Didn’t you ever have a toy you carried around _everywhere_?”

When she just looked at him blankly his jaw almost dropped.

“Temari? I hate that desert.”

“You can’t blame the desert for my shitty childhood,” Temari rolled her eyes, and threw the deer back at him. “It’s not a big deal.”

He caught it. “Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t,” she snapped, annoyance rising.

“It is,” he insisted. “You need a deer to cuddle.”

“I have you!” she roared, anger flaring suddenly.

He took a step back.

“I have you, _you stupid idiot_ , and Shikadai, how many freakin’ deer do you think I need? You’re my damn herd, okay, and I’m not lonely because I’ve got you! I don’t need a stupid toy, I have real people in my life.” She wanted to strangle him. It was an urge that had lessened in frequency since they got married, but the inclination was back in full force now. “You can grow up and put that stupid deer somewhere else, and focus your attention on things that actually matter, and not your idiotic childish fantasies!”

Shikamaru stood quietly, bearing the brunt of her verbal assault. He waited. “Are you done?”

“No,” she snapped. Then she paused, suddenly realising she didn’t have any more of an argument – not that she’d had an argument in the first place so much as a sudden burst of emotion that had no grounds in logic. “Fine, yes, I’m _done_!”

With a frustrated, half-muffled yell so Shikadai wouldn’t be alerted, Temari spun on her heel and stormed out the room. Her footsteps could be heard ringing sharply as she went.

Shikamaru moved to follow her, paused, re-evaluated, and turned to put the deer down on his pillow with a perfunctory pat on the head before exiting the room.

“Temari,” he tried to keep his voice level. “Where are you?”

He didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t get one. He went to the back door, because she usually stormed right out the house when she wasn’t sure how to finish an argument.

Sure enough, she was standing at the edge of the porch, glaring at the stars, arms crossed.

“Temari?” he approached carefully. She did not turn to face him. “I’ll put him in Shikadai’s room, if he’s bothering you.”

She let out a loud breath. “No. It’s fine. He’s yours.”

“Are you angry because you don’t understand why I like him so much, and it bothers you that you can’t figure it out?”

She eyed him.

“You missed out,” he said quietly, “On a lot of the things I took for granted. And one of those things was a childhood with parents who loved you very much. Families stick together. That’s all. And I saw that deer all alone, and we’ve got enough love to spare, I just . . . didn’t want him to be lonely. I know he’s not real, but have you met me? I get attached to things I really shouldn’t.” He ran the back of a finger gently down her cheek. “I love you. More than any deer.”

She sighed. “Why do you always have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Be _nice_ all the time. Put up with me. Just . . . be _right_ about everything.”

He smiled. “So, why do you think Shikadai likes his duck so much?”

“Because kids will bond with anything. Doesn’t always make sense, that’s just what kids are like.”

“Kids grow up into adults,” Shikamaru said. “And we still bond with anything.”

“Or maybe boys never mature beyond the age where they want to sleep with ducks and deer.”

“Or maybe everyone is like that, deep down. Ino still has the blanket her parents got when she was about six. Sakura has a lot of teddy bears. It’s not just boys. It’s just,” he thought for a moment, before settling on, “It’s just practicing how to love. That’s human nature.”

“Human nature to think a stuffed toy is lonely,” she snarked, still slightly annoyed. She just didn’t see the point. There was no sense in forming an attachment to an inanimate object. It made no sense, and that was what irritated her the most – she couldn’t see the logic behind it. And Shikamaru, usually the epitome of logic and strategy, couldn’t explain it to her.

“You don’t need to understand it,” Shikamaru murmured, daring to wrap his arms around her and lay his chin on her shoulder. “Not everything can be explained. Not all the important things, anyway.”

“Name one important thing that cannot be explained.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Why we fell in love.”

 

Temari went to visit her brothers every few months, although since Shikadai was born those visits had been stretched further apart. He had visited with her before, and he had stayed home. This time she let him choose.

“I’ll stay home,” Shikadai said, bouncing his duck on the floor where he was sitting. “It’s too hot there. Ducks don’t like the heat.”

He had fetched the deer from off their bed, having decided that it and his duck were firm friends. He looked up at her thoughtfully, “Do deer like sand?”

Temari shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Shikadai reached to pull the deer closer. “Won’t you be lonely all by yourself?”

Shikamaru looked at the deer, then at Temari with a thin smile. She narrowed her eyes.

“Take the deer to Suna,” Shikamaru said brightly. “He’ll like it.”

“Take photos,” Shikadai added. “So we know he’s having fun.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Temari asked. “I’m not dragging that thing all the way to Suna.”

“He’s part of your herd,” Shikamaru grinned.

Temari dropped her voice to a low whisper, “I don’t give a duck.”

 

Kankuro was there to greet Temari at the gates to Suna. She had expected Gaara to be working, so seeing only one brother was not surprising. Kankuro tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing the deer that poked out the top of her bag.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Don’t even ask,” Temari said firmly, walking right past him. “My boys are both babies, apparently.”

Kankuro followed her, hiding a grin, until they were inside the Kazekage mansion, and Temari had stomped to her room.

“What’s his name?” Kankuro asked, as though this was a perfectly normal question. He tickled the deer’s head. “He’s cute.”

“He doesn’t have a name,” Temari grumbled, dumping the deer and her bag onto the floor.

Instantly, Kankuro reached down to pick the deer up, dust him off, and set him on the bed.

“What is it with men and the desire to put fluffy animals where I’m trying to sleep?” Temari wondered.

“Aw, Temari, don’t be mean to him.” Kankuro regarded the little brown deer. “You’ll make him sad.”

“Please stop anthropomorphizing him, he’s just a stuffed toy.”

“Shouldn’t you be more tolerant, now that you’re a mom?” Kankuro frowned. “Be nice.”

“I’ll be nice when you all stop acting like complete morons.”

 

When Gaara came home, they were still in Temari’s room bickering. He stood quietly in the doorway until both paused to draw breath before he spoke, “Hi, Temari.”

“Oh. Hi, Gaara.” Temari shot a glare at her oldest brother, then turned a smile to Gaara. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” He looked around the room. His gaze landed on the deer, and his expression lightened. “You have a deer?”

“It’s Shikamaru’s.”

“I like him.”

“Shikamaru, or the deer?”

“Well, both,” Gaara clarified, reaching out a hand to rub the deer’s fur. “Hi, little guy. Welcome to Suna.”

Temari rolled her eyes so hard she almost passed out.

 

It was later in the evening, when Temari and Kankuro were sprawled on the couch finishing the pizza they ordered for supper, when Gaara came shyly out to sit with them, the deer tucked under one arm, and his old, rather battered-looking teddy bear under the other.

He sat down next to Temari, eyes on his knees, and passed the deer to her silently, fiddling with his teddy.

“You still have that?” Temari asked, mind boggled. “I thought you got rid of that years ago.”

“Why would I get rid of him?” Gaara blinked, looking puzzled. “He’s my friend.”

“All my boys are insane,” Temari whispered to herself, the realization striking her suddenly. “All four of them.”

“Well, I’m not being left out,” Kankuro announced, standing up and wandering off. “I’m fetching Blackie.”

Blackie was a small, relatively non-lethal puppet he had made as a young child, which had been present throughout most of his childhood. He returned triumphantly, holding the puppet up for his siblings to see. “Remember him, Temari?”

“Yes,” she sighed, laying her head back and staring at the ceiling. When had life gotten so weird?

“I used to think about this, when I was younger,” Gaara said, and Temari could feel a sense of dread forming in her stomach. He was using his melancholy voice, and she knew he was going to say something heart-wrenching and sweet, and she was going to look like a monster for being annoyed.

It always happened like that. Gaara was an emotional manipulating champion without even trying.

“I wanted to play with you and Kankuro sometimes,” he continued, blissfully unaware that his sister was mentally cursing him. “I used to pretend, since we never really played together much . . .”

Kankuro smiled broadly. “We could still play now. It’s not like anything’s stopping us.”

Temari’s dignity was, thank you very much.

To her everlasting relief, Gaara shook his head. “It’s okay. I am happy with what we have now.” Without warning, he shuffled closer, leaning into Temari’s side. He nudged his shoulder against hers insistently.

“What?” she asked.

“I want . . .” He trailed off, instead shifting around until he picked her arm up, draped it over his shoulders and settled against her once more. He pulled his bear securely into his lap. “I always wanted to do this.”

Kankuro, not to be outdone, snuggled his way under Temari’s other arm.

She sighed, closing her eyes. “You’re both idiots.” She looked down when she felt Gaara move.

He was nudging his teddy against the deer. It looked like they were hugging. And Temari wanted so badly to be annoyed by it, but it was _Gaara_ , and well . . . She sighed again, less annoyed and more resigned.

She hugged Gaara a bit tighter, and he pressed willingly into her.

 

Because Kankuro was quick to capitalize on Temari’s discomfort, he mailed the photograph to Shikamaru before she had even left Suna, so that by the time she got home Shikamaru had added it proudly to the collection they keep in their bedroom.

She was immortalized rolling her eyes, with the deer held up, while Kankuro grinned so wide his eyes were crinkles, and Blackie loomed at his shoulder, and Gaara’s little smile and blush were nearly hidden behind his bear.

And if anyone asked, no, it wasn’t her favourite photo of her brothers.

 

It’s not about maturity, she realized when she came home. (Although, Tsunade was right, men never mature, but that’s okay, because Shikamaru can fake it well enough.)

It’s about innocence.

It’s about a time when life was simpler and easier. That’s all Shikamaru was holding onto; a reminder of the pleasures and the love of childhood. When he fell asleep with the deer at his neck and his arm around Temari, it’s because holding it makes him feel safe and secure. It’s because the deer is something that will never answer back, or betray a secret, or demand anything. It’s just _there_ , a physical manifestation of love and calm.

It’s because toys didn’t come with the pitfalls of human relationships, with fighting and betrayal and baffling emotions. They just existed, able to absorb all the confusion and emotional turmoil that came with growing up.

It was the same comfort Temari got from holding her fan, she decided. It gave a sense of power, a sense of being protected. A feeling of not being so alone all the time, because even those surrounded by friends and family can be lonely at times.

Because a little stuffed deer is a constant, and will never decline spending time with you, and will never make you feel as though you don’t matter, or offer advice when all you wanted was someone to listen.

And it’s human nature to form attachments to things, to assign things emotions and names and a level of possessiveness. It’s a comfort to know you can, you can still feel, you can still look after something and be looked after. It was a gateway to expressing emotions.

When she made the bed the next morning, she set the deer carefully on Shikamaru’s pillow, the way he liked it to be.

 

Shikamaru entered their bedroom, only to stop dead. His deer was on his pillow, as it usually was, and his wife was in bed reading, as she usually was, but there was an additional light sandy-blonde deer tucked under her arm.

She flushed the moment he looked at her. “We’re out the house all day,” she mumbled. “He’ll get lonely.”

He said nothing.

She looked down, cheeks heating up a bit more. She tightened her grip on the sandy deer. “Deer live in herds.”

 

 


End file.
